


And time's killing you

by twinSky



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Post-Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, wonder what its like being like an almost reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-30 13:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinSky/pseuds/twinSky
Summary: 'Remember us… remember that we once lived,'Emet-Selch had said.And they shall. They do. Perhaps too well, and yet at the same time not enough.





	And time's killing you

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this written up for.. awhile now? just really fascinated by the idea we were an ascian and one that was close to emet-selch. On top of that with the new tales from talking aobut how GOOD he was at seeing souls there's no way he didn't know and just wasn't in denial... whack

Coming to the First is a peculiar feeling, because while it is beautiful in its everlasting light, there is still something quite sad about it. For however beautiful the land might be, they have trouble imagining a world where the stars do not shine in the dead of night. Where friends cannot sit by the fire under the moon and share and laugh together.

So, it is not hard to agree to help, in fact sometimes they think it would be harder for them to _not _help at this point, but they agree nonetheless.

It is par the course, help the people of the town, find the monster that must be defeated, and this time get the wonderful reward of restoring the night sky, a sense of finality compared to the never-ending fight against Primals back home. And yet, it is all the more solemn, this world racked with despair and hope alike. Tesleen and the residents of that unfortunate stay, Kholusia’s peoples state and Eulmore’s residents and their utter disregard for the rest of the Shard. Even Il Mheg in it’s everlasting mischief seems heavy with the weight of the light, the madness of their King. They have the power to restore the night sky, but there is little else they have to offer this world to help cure its ills and woes.

Which again, is par the course, same role, different world.

They help people, save people, the role of a hero is one that follows them whichever way life leads them. So its not surprising that this is how things end up turning out. What is surprising however is the appearance of an Ascian.

They had thought themselves free of the troubles of the Source, even if they had only traded those in for new ones, during their time here. His appearance is a reminder of all that they’ve left behind, what they have to lose should they falter here.

And beneath all that is…. Something else. Whatever made their head turn before he had made his presence known. They push the thought from their head, they have better things to worry about then that. The Echo grants them some abilities, this is most likely another one of them.

-

Emet-Selch stands before them inside the Ocular and they wonder who even allowed him stay in the first place. Surely the Exarch could expel him from the room with the control he has over the Tower, though perhaps it is safer to keep him here, where he supposedly comes in peace, then throwing him out against the innocent people of the Crystarium.

Perhaps everyone else has come to the same conclusion, because despite their unease no one makes any move to do anything about it.

His words are similar to the ones he had just shared with you all, and just like before behind that blasé attitude there is something quite sad they can’t help but feel. Maybe that is what makes them tell Thancred they believe in Emet-Selch’s words, if just a small bit.

Because that makes more sense than some distant part of them that feels he would not lie to them.

Because that just doesn’t make any sense at all, to think that of a stranger, of an _Ascian_ with such familiarity.

-

Like the observer he promised to be, Emet-Selch comes and goes at his leisure, gives his thoughts on whatever mess they’ve currently found themselves in. A scathing comment here, an almost helpful comment there. It would almost be funny or endearing were he not who he was. And let not forget continuously going on about destroying them and this shard and everyone else to cause the rejoining.

And even this becomes… they cannot approve, not after everything they’ve done to protect the Source and now the First – simply for being someone who lives in the Source – but his reasons more understandable.

Were everyone they knew gone and lost to them they aren’t sure what would become of them. Ardbert is proof enough of the dangers loneliness and solitude can rake on a body. Neither of them can imagine the pain it must cause Emet-Selch to be the last few of his kind, to live surrounded by reminders of what he has lost.

They can’t understand what Emet-Selch means to do with helping them, helping them bring balance back to the First wont help with the rejoining, their goals are opposing, they don’t understand Emet-Selch’s insistence that somehow this won’t end terribly. But he must have a plan (he always has plan).

They’d also like to hope they could all resolve this without fighting however, to end this peacefully and without further bloodshed.

A feeling that intensifies as they watch him bring back Y’shtola for no other reason than to lend a hand and good will.

They’d like to… believe, in what could be (in what has been).

Not that they want to be ‘whole’ or whatever it is that he believes would happen to them should a rejoining happen. That they stand only to gain is… whatever may come of them should a rejoining happen it would never be worth the lives lost here on the First, on any of the shards. They may not remember – whatever _that_ means – how perfect life was before Hydaelyn supposedly split the world into its current state, 13 shards each a lesser reflection of what once was. But they do know the world around them. And it will always be worth saving.

-

But somethings aren’t meant to be.

(They weren’t then, and they won’t be now).

-

Pain.

Light choking, and tight.

Pain.

The world shines so bright they wish to do naught but close their eyes so that they may have but some form of reprieve.

Pain. _Pain. **Pain.**_

Battle upon battle they have fought, they have laboured, and they have been wounded, and they have bled, but little compares to the terrible all-encompassing agony that burns through them as the Light within them becomes too much to bear.

A feeling that they do not have time to dwell on with all that happens.

It is hard to focus through the pain but they understand well enough. The Exarch before them, speaking as if they’ve used them, as if it would ever be possible for him to betray them – as if they believe for a single second there is not some ulterior motive.

And there is, a sacrifice, for them. As if their life is any more important than his, than anyone’s. The Echo is not theirs alone, Hydaelyn’s blessing granted not only to one. Every life is precious and they so ardently wish people would stop putting them before themselves.

It happens all too quickly after, G’raha Tia alive, a_wake, _a reveal as sudden as the way he drops right after, Emet-Selch taking him down with his arrival. It becomes harder to focus after that, it takes so much just to keep the light within them, to keep it from…

_‘Your mere existence will serve to engulf the world in light. Those in your company will likewise turn to sineaters…’_

After everything they’ve done is this truly how it ends – how they fail. To be the undoing of everything they sought to achieve. Even though they see no other alternative they refuse to believe in it, they will not be the discarded failure Emet-Selch has casted them as.

_‘When it all becomes too much to bear, seek me out at my abode, in the dark depths of the Tempest. There you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes._

_Till then I bid you farewell, eater.’_

And, oh, they would meet him there, but not in defeat, not in resignation, but to make things right. To do as they always have done – to fight, to win, to_ save_.

-

Amaurot is beautiful, with its towering and twisting towers in these dark waters, it is as haunting as it is breathtaking. They have never seen anything quite like it, not on the Source nor on the First, though that does not stop the odd sense of familiarity as they walk down the streets of the city speaking to a people who are as kind and helpful as they are tall. They feel as though they could stay here forever, were it not for the fact that at its core this place is so heart wrenchingly empty.

They wonder if it is more cruel to live in solitude or to surround yourself with a pale imitation of what you once had.

The answer eludes them.

Still, they came here with a purpose, all the Scions and Ryne did, and vague notions of déjà vu aside they have a man to find, and another to save, and until that is done everything else can wait.

-

Their time might yet be limited, a dwindling hourglass until the light consumes them, turns them, but they will keep fighting until their last. So off they go to fight Emet-Selch, who mocks them for keeping the same company when he himself has surrounded himself with what is the company he once kept. They know the value of the present, of the importance of the friendships they have made, the lives they have saved.  
  
(And so did he, once upon a time)  
  
So they will stand tall yet, Emet-Selch may have deemed all their lives worthless. Might have deemed them a disappointment, but until the final battle has ended, until the last blow had been dealt, the end is not written.  
  
So they head into the final battle, surround themselves in the final moments of a people Emet-Selch is willing to do all to bring back, and ready themselves for the end.  
  
  
-

As life seeks balance, so to does tragedy. For every victory a loss, for every triumph a failure. As they stumble weary and tired from Therion they are greeted once again by Emet-Selch, almost disinterested in the way they continue to struggle.

It makes them burn with anger, how dismissive the other is, would containing the Light of the Wardens truly have been enough to earn his approval? They cannot know, as even now the Light within them twists and stretches yearning to break free and corrupt. The struggle makes the exhaustion wear ever the more heavy on them. And they watch in pained agony as Alisaie pulls the last of her strength to stand tall against him, ever the fearless warrior, rushing ahead to do what is right with little thought to herself. And then they watch her fall, watch Alphinaud rush to her aid like the well to do brother he is.

They watch them both as they lay crumpled in defeat and that anger that sadness drives them up to stand and stumble forward. Weary after weary step, for if these, these _children, _for that is what they are – not even of age to drink, that they have come to care for so ardently can stand to fight again then who are they to lay down and give up. They hear Urianger’s and Y’shtola’s voices, their protective force, ever so wise and well meaning. But wisdom fares poorly against Emet-Selch’s might and so to do they fall.

And so to, do they.

The Light bursts forth the battle and its aches having finally worn away at the makeshift recovery Ryne had allowed them.

“Rise up in madness and fury! Devour the vermin infesting the land which is rightfully ours!” He says, and in their pain blurred mind they wonder why a man who had just said they would expunge their very existence from history, would now claim the land both of theirs (as it once had been).

The idle thought is washed away as Thancred dashes before them yelling at Ryne to come help them. They do not have the words to speak but they wish they could tell her there is no point, there is no fixing them now. They can feel that, splinter by terrifying splinter.

“Fight it, you have to hold on.” She says even as she crumples, kind even to her last.

_‘Do not make a choice that would leave you on your own.’_

Would giving in be that? To surrender to this pain, is that the lonely fate that awaits them?

The thought follows them into the never-ending white expanse.

-

“If you had the strength to take another step, could you do it? Could you save our worlds?”

The words make them want to laugh, for some odd reason, and they look up at Ardbert with smile. “Not alone”, they say, but they haven’t been alone, not for awhile have they.

-

They don’t know what they expected as they took Ardbert’s axe in hand, but the way they can feel the light recede, the way they no longer feel seconds away from losing themselves, is wholly welcome.

They look over at Emet-Selch and stand tall, powerful, like a weight finally lifted off their shoulders, and they feel the line between the two of them blur, feels themselves speak and hears Ardbert’s voice resound instead.

Emet-Selch looks at them in shock as he speaks, as if seeing something else, as if for a moment not seeing_ them_ before him. They know not what he sees, but they do know that this ends here, however that ends comes to be.

And with the Exarch’s – with _Gr’aha Tia’s _– help, victory has never seemed closer.

And after all, it is the victors that decide which side was right in the end, is it not?

-  
  
  
The name Hades suits him, is the odd thought that rushes unwittingly through their head during such a charged moment.

-

“Remember us...” He tells them as he disappears and for all that this outcome seemed inevitable, they can’t help but want to reach out and stop this. This isn’t what they wanted; this wasn’t supposed to _hurt_ as much as it does. Were victories not meant to be _victorious? _But they feel not like a hero who has defeated a villain, but simply one lost person defeating another. A pyrrhic victory they think Urianger would say. Not that any of them would agree with this train of thought, they think not.

Hythlodaeus words ring in their ears; is this some distant part of a soul, theirs yet not, that seems so pained at the others fading. Is what they feel their own? They don’t know, and at the moment, it doesn’t matter. Only that they so wish perhaps they could have ended things differently. That perhaps they truly could have found some way to reconcile their differences (to be friends as they once were).

_Remember us… remember that we once lived,_ Emet-Selch had said.

And they shall. They do. Perhaps too well, and yet at the same time not enough.

His suffering, his despair, his people’s joy’s and losses, they will remember them in his stead (the burden was never his to bear alone).

For now, they have a victory they must celebrate, however hollow it may feel.

-

For the first time in awhile they find themselves with time to spare, their business in the First is done for the moment, and the Source does not call for their succor at the moment. An odd but welcome reprieve after everything that has passed, of the events they are still trying to process. They find themselves returning to Norvrandt often, watching the sky they returned then lost then returned once again. Visiting their friends still trapped on this plane, unable to return home, yet none the weary for it.

And often they visit the Exarch, a welcome sight to behold, a friend they thought was lost to them alive and well -if not older, a bit more tired. A feeling they understand all too well.

“I see that you have come to love this spot as I have.” Comes the Exarch’s voice from behind them.

They look away from the sunset before them, feet dangling over the edge of the tower. “G’raha,” They greet, smiling at the way the name still makes him falter.

“Yes, yes that is indeed my name.” He says haltingly and frowns down at their grin. “What brings you back this time, O’ great vaunted Warrior Of Light?” He asks, frown twitching upwards, “Though I suppose I should say Darkness while on this shard.” And at this it is their turn to frown.

The Exarch sighs, lowering himself to sit beside them. “If I might trouble you for your thoughts, you’ve gotten them all in a huff with your more broody than usual silence.”

They look over, but the Exarch’s gaze is upon the sunset, a fondness to it many of Norvrandt’s residents share after decades without.

“Is it wrong to wish that things had ended differently?”

“For one who had resigned himself to his fated death, I cannot deny that I did not dream of an ending where I could sit here next to you, of one where I could…” He trails off, and they nudge their knee against his but he simply shakes his head.

“I have received a gift far greater than I had thought possible. We all dream of what could have been, of the perfect ending to every tale, but so very few of us have the luck to see it come to pass.”

“But still… I…”

“You speak of Emet-Selch, do you not?” They are not sure what reaction they give at the mention, but it is enough to have him huff out a laugh. “Please, do not take me for a fool, for all that I have admired you I am not blind to your struggles. I remember keenly those final moments, when I summoned the heroes of the shards to assist you in your battle.”

They sigh, hands clenching around the fabric of their clothing, “I do not regret what I did, for the protection of this star, for all of them, he had to be defeated. And yet, I cannot help but feel this yearning for something different.”

“My plan…” The Exarch begins slowly, “I was to fade with your existence spared, this was a fate not only to befall me, but all those who remained from my time. Those lives may have not had long left, for we did not labour to bring me here for frivolous reasons, but they were lives nonetheless, lives to be sacrificed so that others may yet see another morrow.”

Their eyes widen, looking over in alarm at the others strained tone, “G’raha the circumstances are –”

“Different. Yes I’m sure you and yours would agree on that point. But still remains that every life that had once survived the Eighth Umbral Calamity is now no more. Lives sacrificed for the return of another. In those simple terms, is what I did all that different from him?”

They remain silent, stunned.

“Do not worry yourself with an answer, tis but an idle thought. My point in all this if you wish to mourn, then mourn. If you wish to ponder a different ending, then do so. But time marches ever forward, and in your musings do not become so lost you lose sight of what is before you. You were tasked to remember, not to dwell, were you not?”

“I simply feel as if had I tried a bit harder, I could have come to understand him, come to a different ending. One where I saved you, this realm, and him.”

“Ever ambitious are you, is there anything you aren’t willing to save?” The joke falls heavy, they both know the lengths they would go to protect, and the labours they take even when it fails.

“It’s a hero’s wont is it not? Save those that you can, fight on for those who cannot. It seems now I’ll carry on the torch for a man who simply wanted his home back.” For a man who would have ended the lives of thousands for it.

“I am not one in a position to judge you for it,” The Exarch says, as if reading their thoughts, “and rest assured that your secret lay safe with me.”

“You owe me at least that, no?” They reply, teasing.

“That and ever more.” He replies in kind.

Silence settles between them as the sky begins to fade from its pale orange and pinks, the first beginnings of night starting to emerge, stray stars beginning to shine even in the fading light.

“I think… I _know_ that in a life before my own I knew him. I think he realised that in the end, I think he knew all along.”

The Exarch inclines his head, one ear twitching, “I am… I cannot say surprised. For it seems yours is a life destined to be entwined by all, be it now, in the future, or even in past long forgotten.”

“Tell me about it.” The huff, running a hand through their hair.

“So is _this_ what truly plagues you?”

“I… I suppose, I feel as though I have killed a friend even though I only ever knew him as an enemy who tried to make some kind of peace with us all. It troubles me that I cannot remember, it troubles me that I feel this way at all.”

“If you worry that wanting for those memories makes your actions hypocrisy then I must insist you are mistaken. Do we all not wish to understand that which eludes us, do we not ask questions because we seek answers? It is in our nature to seek out the unknown, even when that knowledge lies behind doors we should not open.”

They hum in response, feels something restless in them settle if just a bit. “I do not remember the G’raha of my time being so wise. In fact, I must admit for all your knowledge I took you for a bit of an overzealous fool, though your passion was undeniable.”

The Exarch reddens, ears flattening as they laugh. “I would thank you to not remind me.”

“I would thank you to allow me to reminisce, I still find it a bit surreal to be able to see you awake again in my lifetime.”

“I agree,” he responds, a tad wistful.

“G’raha, Exarch, thank you.”

He startles, as he seems wont to do whenever they share but a bit of praise towards him.

“What for?”

“For your council, for simply sitting here with me and lending an ear.” For they do not think their fellow Scions would have listened to them so impartially, not after what Emet-Selch did, not with how they celebrated in his defeat.

“My role in your hero’s story may yet be over, but I would hope to remain as a friend for however much longer I am able.”

“If this a fancy way of asking if we are friends, I’m almost insulted you have to ask. Is my calling you of your name not signal enough?”

“Yes,” The Exarch says with a watery laugh, “you must pray forgive my foolishness.”

“Any time.”

“Now if you excuse me, I must get my leave, the night grows late and my duties as Exarch still call my attention.”

“Rest well,” they say with a smile.

“Thank you. Though do not think that you may rest here brooding all the night, I have given orders to the watch to come check on you and force you to bed should the hour grow too late.”

“So I have myself a watch now?”

The Exarch sighs, a little helpless as he rubs the back of his head. “Your friends are quite the forceful bunch when it comes to your health, I would sooner protect it than risk their wrath. Not that I truly need such motivation in the first place.”

“Alright, I understand, I’ll refrain from my so called ‘brooding’ through the night.”

“Tis all we ask.” He replies with a laugh, as he descends back down the stairs. They listen to the footsteps recede, until the only sounds are the quiet ambiance of the night.

They look up at the sky, the stars now out in their full brilliance, and wonder if ever did they look upon the same sky with others at their side, lives that were lost or never were.

“Emet-Selch… Hades. You can not hear me, but, I will make sure you are not forgotten. Though none of us remember the world as it used to be, the friends we may have had, nor the lives we may have lived, I promise I will not forget you. That I will not let you and yours be forgotten. For that is all I can give, because no matter what I cannot sacrifice these people, these worlds, to see your dream come to pass.”

Time marches ever onwards, for better or worse, and it is all we can do to make the best of the time we are given.

Whatever future awaits them on the Source, or here in the First, they will face it as they always have, for after all they’ve been through they cannot falter.

And they wonder, if at the end of it all, would he have judged them as worthy then?

A question without answer, but for some reason they think the answer would be yes.

(He was always proud of them, sentimental fool that he was, and he would have been again, had grief not consumed him.)

But that is enough brooding for now, they suppose, it would not do for the Warrior of Darkness to be scolded by a fair few knights. They stand, dusting themselves off as they turn to head back down.

“I would thank you too, even if I know not for what.” They whisper into the open air, letting the wind steal away their words as the world settles into silence around them once again. “I don’t know what I had expected to happen,” they say with a sigh, running a tired hand through their hair.

Perhaps someday, they would come to understand the truth, but for now the present calls, and a warm bed awaits.

The rest of it, well they have yet the rest of their life to figure out.

**Author's Note:**

> Ty for reading!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://twinsky.tumblr.com/)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/twinsky72) (i post more about ffxiv on twitter)


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